Trophy hunting has recently benefitted from much-needed media attention thanks to Cecil the Lion. Thank you, Cecil, for your unfortunate, but pivotal role in this matter. Art features on the list of further types of trophy pursuits deserving scrutiny. Yes, maybe some thought should be given to Cecilia the Art Philanderer.
Who is she? Can we maybe see a picture? Yeah, give us a glimpse of her perfectly manicured hands, her feet gracing a pair of the latest Louboutins! Get her to blow us a kiss from her luscious, red, pouted lips! And then, let us stare upon her gleefully hanging a well-chosen, masterfully hunted, and officially-acquired masterpiece above a casually-situated €500k Prouvé table.

Well, New York-based Jessica Craig-Martin “presents skillfully cropped and angled photographs of glittering individuals shot at various society parties, charity fundraisers, art exhibitions, and other invite-only soirees.” (- Winston Wächter Fine Art, Seattle). Craig-Martin’s masterly snapshots give us a fanciful glimpse of the iceberg’s tip upon which ‘art philanderers’ tend to perch.
Nevermind that these particular photographs by Craig-Martin, whose images could be easily found thanks to Google, were shot at charity benefits. They could just as well have been taken at an art auction, major gallery opening night, or at an Art Basel cocktail party, whether in Basel, Miami, or Hong Kong. Your choice. They are used here to give a metaphorical, introductory glimpse into today’s deliberation.

Craig-Martin has managed to capture some fantastic details. Who doesn’t want to stand out in a pair of shoes like those? Why shouldn’t our pooches get to accessorize too? Let’s flash our suntans, perfectly kept hair, jewelry and other fabulous fashionista tidbits, while we glamorously socialize with our preferred pecking protocol, whether it’s a single-, double-, triple-cheek kiss, or a simple air kiss across the prosperous throngs of private event attendees.Of course we all enjoy our own little luxuries and our sense of extravagance varies with income, means, culture, and opportunity. Sure, there is no need for a spendthrift definition of purchasing power. We’ve all accepted that everything is relative. A certain Mr. Einstein’s mathematical equations even put a scientific stamp on it, at the beginning of the 20th century. It’s got a legitimate seal of approval. So what?Absolutely. So what. I couldn’t agree more with that. Power to the bucks! Happy faces when they flow! Sure. Like most, I can easily handle that.The only issue with this kind of art-schmoozing, in which each piece is acquired with a bang and delightfully displayed above that designer settee in the penthouse, is that the Trophy Art Philanderer totally misses art’s true aim and life-size, yet apparently imperceptible targets.

Oh, before moving on swiftly, I should probably add that although Cecilia the Art Philanderer is female, ‘Trophy Arting’ (my words so please quote me when you choose to use it) also happens among men, it’s just harder to spot when you’re not in art world orbit. (Note: In her book, Seven Days in the Art World, published in 2008, Sarah Thornton describes the ‘art world’ as “a loose network of overlapping subcultures held together by a belief in art. They span the globe but cluster in art capitals like New York, London, Los Angeles, and Berlin.”) It’s harder to spot, because you don’t know who’s ‘important’. There’s no such thing as a published Artworld Who’s Who (now, there’s a title/business idea!). But ‘they’ know. That’s all that matters. To them. ‘They’ want to be one of ‘them’. Yes, it’s a matter of pack mentality.

Let’s be reminded by the words of French writer Marcel Proust (1871-1922) that “Desire makes everything blossom; possession makes everything wither and fade.”
This might be a little too strong when it comes to owning art, but we should definitely remember: art is not all about owning, displaying, or schmoozing with the art world It-boys and -girls.

Current times appear to be a propitious moment to reflect on this. We’ve nearly reached our millennial sweet sixteen, and media seem to feel the urge to use headlines like “How the Arabs are taking over the art world” (see http://www.gqindia.com/get-smart/pop-culture/tracing-dohas-rise-top-art-world-food-chain-gq-india). Apparently, to quote GQ’s online article “If we found it easy to dismiss our hedonistic brethren from the Middle East as mere highstreet shoppers, the joke’s on us. The new slice of culture they’re building is the real indicator of their long-term civilizational ambitions.” Who would’ve thought that art “shopping” could turn into some sort of 21st century ‘Missile Crisis’?
Money trouble can lead to the worst even in the best of times. Fair enough. But, regardless ‘who’ wins ‘what’ on this, we’re surely all sidestepping the truly significant, precious nature of art.

This occurred to me after recently visiting an artist in his studio in Paris. No gallery. No auction results. No string of solo shows or major exhibitions. All this was of secondary concern to him. What mattered to this painter? Painting. (I can hear some of you thinking, “Duh!”)
He showed me one. Then another. Stooping down, he lifted the bottom of another panel to set it alongside another. It was so big, I felt concerned it might topple to the ground along with him!
Then he selected one to hang and another to show next to that one, all the while pointing out features of one, details in another, while telling me about what gave him the idea to do this, to depict that.
His physical efforts were not at all directed towards the person beside him watching, looking, listening, saying whatever mumbled through my mind or made my heart skip a beat.
He cared about what he had done. He had done it with purpose. This is his secret to fulfillment and overall satisfaction.

I didn’t leave with one of the smaller formats tucked under my arm. The tallest ones were probably bigger than my entire Parisian living room. I didn’t give him a single, potentially fruitful business connection. I didn’t have any ‘Who’s Who’ names to drop. I didn’t know who would have a keen enough eye to display his work.

I ain’t no Middle Eastern sheikh. I ain’t no Parisian It-girl. I ain’t no blue chip gallery representative. Nevermind. He was in no rush. He took more than plenty of time. We even improvised a homemade coffee break at some point. Was this my breakfast at Tiffany’s? No, it was more real than that. He appreciated someone with an honest eye for painting, a care for art, coming to look and enjoy the creative poetry of pictorial compositions that were most visibly darn hard work to make. Talk about values, priorities, what matters in life, what drives us in art, etc., etc., came up and wasauthentically conveyed, simply shared – by real people, in a real place, having a real conversation, in real time.
François Mendras takes months to create paintings. Often even years. He starts them, eventually continues them, at some point pulls them back out for another touch, then leaves them for a bit, and eventually reaches a point that the final stroke of color, glaze, varnish, or time, has achieved its finishing job.

Time is what I’ve finally understood matters in Guillaume Mary’s work too. This took me ‘only’ a dozen years to recognize and fully appreciate, but now I get and respect it. That artist gets it too. Pure genius.
Guillaume Mary sees something, thinks about it or quickly jots down a shape, then makes a drawing or a quick sculpture (that he playfully considers a “toy”), makes another drawing, applies some paint on a small piece of paper or canvas, goes back to his modeled “toy”, returns to his drawings, repeats some, makes others…. Then he continues with life, his day job, his kids, his supermarket shopping, administrative stuff, lunch with friends, whatever… and eventually returns to his ‘toys’, 3D models, drawings, and other notes, to pick up on a detail, consider a component or pattern that emerges. Eventually he starts thinking about colors, composition, scale… Eventually – potentially months later, he’ll feel it’s time for him to paint ‘that one’ shape or other visual ‘thing’ that had been on his mind and works well in a drawing and that he can picture as a painting.I once very honestly confessed to him that when I first saw his work (over a decade ago) I thought it was all abstract. I had indeed been very surprised when I discovered his inspiration stemmed from urban settings and rural landscapes. He looked at me with widened eyes and quietly said, “Well, you know, regardless of what I paint, for me it always represents something.” Oh. That blew my little art historian’s mind. Today it makes sense. It even strikes me as deeply meaningful. It only took me a short dozen. Priceless.

Talking about what we see, what we feel, what it makes us think about, requires a certain amount of (potentially enjoyable) effort.
Time is one of art’s most important assets. All those thoughts that jumped from a source of inspiration, into the maker’s mind, on through their hands and out on the canvas…

I was equally awestruck when I began to realize to what extent Gregory Forstner studies early 20th century artwork. His pictorial endeavors in our millennium are not only intensely energetic, they are also incredibly historically informed. Forstner’s paintings are not only substantial in size and physical bearing, his actions are purposeful, informed both by aspects of his personal journey in life and his path as an artist looking to/at his masters – whose paintings hang on the white walls of great collections.
In fact, I can well imagine Forstner joining in François Mendras’ giggle that I experienced during a walk through the Tuileries gardens in Paris. Looking toward the neighboring Louvre, Mendras said he “might pop inside to see how his competitors are doing today”.

Let’s quote Marcel Proust again: “Thanks to art, instead of seeing one world only, our own, we see that world multiply itself and we have at our disposal as many worlds as there are original artists, worlds more different one from the other than those which revolve in infinite space, worlds which, centuries after the extinction of the fire from which their light first emanated, whether it is called Rembrandt or Vermeer, send us still each one its special radiance.”

Proust didn’t know François Mendras. Proust didn’t know Gregory Forstner. Proust didn’t know Guillaume Mary. There are many other 21st century artists whose artwork he didn’t get a chance to see. But had he, Proust would have taken TIME to sit down, look at their work, discuss it with them, speak about it with others, and generally consider painting, creating, thinking, creative involvement … I don’t think Proust would have stiletto’ed into an auction saleroom to make that gavel bang with his winning buck. He wouldn’t have triple-kissed his Artworld connections on socialite occasions in order to narcissistically rejoice about the preciously reputable nature of his pals.

Have our highbrows gone lowbrow? How do we turn the (art) world right side up again? Now, that is worth a bit of thought, and considerable effort. Let’s take time to truly enjoy art, discuss art, share our thoughts in art, on art, through art.

Home is where the art is. Ergo, art is my home. With Taylor’s Art English (TAE), it can be your home too. TAE an international, English-speaking ‘place’, created for people who have made art their business. It also caters to other creative minds, keen on intelligent ways to improve their English communication skills.

Founded in Paris, by a business graduate from the University of Edinburgh who also holds a masters degree in Art History from the Sorbonne in Paris, Taylor’s Art English is a language facilitator that enables Paris-based fine art specialists to confidently pursue business in the cosmopolitan, globalized art world.

Three years ago I decided to regularly post images and articles on this art blog. I promptly proceeded to do … sweet f*** all.

Yes, I am a procrastinator. Yes, I have concerns that take precedence over unpaid labor.
And, yes, there are plenty of moments when typing blog entries about art provides a unique experience of the absurd.
Many find it quite obviously pointless. I had to think about it for three years to come to the same conclusion – but on a much more spiritual level.

In a way the whole process of blogging – which, incidentally, in 2013 feels incredibly 2000s – is somewhat reminiscent of that question in philosophy about whether a tree that falls in the middle of a forest makes a sound or not when it hits the ground. (In other words, if there’s no cognizant being consciously perceiving through hearing is there sound or are there merely soundwaves carrying the potential for sound?)
Blog-writing is a bit like that: if there’s no one there to read your words, do you have a voice?

Well, the tree in the middle of the forest doesn’t care.
Why should I?

However, I do readily admit that after three years of abstinence from writing it would be so cool to come back with a blog entry marked by profound insight, biting wit, incredible poetry, or why not something substantial like an image bank of 3000 fabulous artworks that rock this world.
Well, there’s none of that.

Were I to scratch my head a few minutes, how would I summarize the main insights that I’ve gained? Let’s see. Hm. Would I really go ahead and hit “publish” on the following?

1. Taking time (to think or do whatever it is you need at a given moment) is the most painfully worthwhile occupation.

2. Art isn’t everyone’s thing. That’s a good thing. But it does happen to be my thing. And that’s a good thing too.

3. The market is about the market. Prices are determined by supply and demand (by people with the financial means to buy) for a given work in a given sale context at a given moment in time. Neither supply nor demand are driven by absolute measures of value or merit. Market value is not a numerical expression of artistic worth. Markets are spaces of commercial exchange. It doesn’t matter. Eat it. Then vomit if you need to and get over and on with it. As Frank Stella said, “The air is polluted, but you still have to breathe.”

4. Art is about art, and that can be about many things.

5. What art is and isn’t is a whole list in itself. It would have to be added to every day with every new artist that begins to create, with every new piece that is shared with the world, with every new set of eyes (or ears or whatever) that discovers and experiences a new or historical artwork ….

6. What art does and doesn’t do is an equally long list. It can be your emotional sparkplug, your spiritual springboard, your aesthetic relief, your intellectual plaything, your preferred source of sensations, it can be your political megaphone, or just something to stick on your walls because that’s what people in our society do …. It can be all of that, more – or nothing at all. All options are perfectly acceptable. If they aren’t, we’re not discussing art, but something else.

7. The most interesting struggles, the most difficult combats, the most challenging experiences, the greatest moments, the most intense sensations, the deepest sorrow, the most sincere joys – all take place in our heads/hearts. Artists are capable of materially accessing all this. For that they are, they have always been and will always be the magicians of the human soul and, as such, deserve celebration.

8. There’s a lot of good art out there.

9. There are a lot of good artists out there.

10. Thinking is pointless – if it doesn’t result in action.

None of the above is news. But I suppose the insights are new to me.

That’s why there are new artworks, new books, new plays, new movies – my god, that’s why there’s a freakin’ new day every twenty-four hours. None of these are ever fundamentally new.

And that is totally ok.

An acquaintance recently confided in me that his elite school told him to always quote great thinkers for rhetorical emphasis. So, let me sign off today with a tribute to and a quote by an important figure of the 20th century:

“I’m not wise, but the beginning of wisdom is there; it’s like relaxing into—and an acceptance of—things. – Tina Turner

As explained in a previous blog post, September is “re-entry” time in Paris. If so inclined one could spend 24/7 looking at all the new exhibitions, going to all art fairs (Art-o-rama, Marseille ; Docks Art, Lyon ; Marrakech Art Fair), biennials (Lyon, Venice …), new collectors initiatives (François and Jean-Philippe Billarant’s new Silo outside of Paris), run to all gallery exhibition openings, stay up all Saturday night to see the many temporary contemporary art installations on view during la Nuit Blanche (“all nighter”) on October 1st in Paris …

Alternatively, and this has been very relaxing personal choice this year, you can put your iPhone on airplane mode, put on some comfortable walking shoes and breathe in the soft Indian Summer air while quietly strolling from one exhibition to the next without any particular “agenda” other than the sheer pleasure of feeding the eye.

You’ll come across the good, the bad and the ugly – a little like little red riding hood or, in French, le petit Chaperon rouge – and sometimes you won’t know until much later whether you’ve been gobbled up alive or whether you’ve come nose to nose with something worthwhile.

Here are some images of my recent finds. I would recommend some more than others, but I won’t do so today. I’d rather encourage you to go out there and explore for yourselves.

Born in Rouen in 1942, Jacques Kerchache opened his first art gallery in Paris at age 18 and went on his first trip to West Africa at 21. He soon began displaying traditional West African art alongside artworks by European artists. At the time, African ritual objects and reliquaries were condescendingly referred to as art nègre. Jacques Kerchache recognized and spent four decades fervidly promoting their intrinsic artistic qualities up to his death in 2001.

Today the Cartier foundation in Paris pays homage to the man who coined the term arts premiers and obtained its inclusion in the collections of the Louvre. From April 5th until September 25th, an exhibition devoted to the West African sculptural tradition of the former kingdom of Dahomey (modern-day Benin, western Nigeria and Togo) sheds light onto this heart of darkness. One hundred bocio sculptures and figurines formerly part of the ancient religious cult and philosophical tradition Vodun – the origins of the more popularly known, colonially influenced Voodoo offsprings – are thus displayed in Italian designer Enzo Mari’s highly effective scenography, highlighting extracts of a unique collection and providing insight into a man’s life and passion.

Jacques Kerchache’s aesthete’s eye and intimate knowledge of West African beliefs, customs and ritual ceremonies gained over time through patience, luck and courage, gave him a unique vantage point. Convinced that “masterpieces are very rare because great artists are very rare in all societies” he set out to unearth “the Michelangelo and Giacometti of these (West African) societies.”
Kerchache thus treated his finds with equal respect and was keen to initiate the West to not only the cultural but also the artistic intricacies of his finds in ways and through means that they would understand and be able to connect to. Upon returning from one of his early trips into the heart of the black continent he not only displayed Mahongwe m’bweti reliquary figures (found in a dried-up well in modern-day Gabon, discarded by Christian missionaries in the 1930s) but published an accompanying catalogue with a text by French poet and essayist Claude Roy. The ensuing arrest of Jacques Kerchache in Gabon where he was accused of art smuggling added scandal and notoriety to a singular life trajectory.

Dealing in art, in tribal art objects, acting as advisor and go-between between European collections (both private and institutional) and curating several exhibitions, Jacques Kerchache made numerous trips to Africa and also to Southeast Asia while running his gallery in rue de Seine from 1965 until 1980. (Rue de Seine in Paris’s Saint-Germain district still remains a center for tribal arts with the Parcours des mondes event celebrating tribal art every month of September since 2001)

A fortuitous holiday encounter on the island of Mauritius in 1991 with Jacques Chirac, then mayor of Paris, allows trailblazer Kerchache to take his ambitions to yet another level. His dream of introducing traditional, tribal art into the Louvre – as expressed in a “manifesto” published in French daily Libération a year earlier – becomes reality in the year 2000 with the inauguration of the Pavillon des Sessions at the Louvre and prefigures the inauguration of what became known as the Quai Branly museum in 2006.

What strikes me as being particularly effective about the current exhibition at the Fondation Cartier is of course the forcefulness of the pieces displayed. But then again, I am no specialist and incredibly uncertain as to whether I would be able to tell “mere folk art” or a “standard votive offering” from a “masterpiece” – a distinction which Kerchache keenly made… (Is it safe to presume that at least 95% of the foundation’s visitors share my humble position?)
What really gives me access into the world of Vodun rituals and aesthetics plus precious insight into the efforts of an extraordinary man is in large part a highly effective exhibition layout and presentation. The scenography draws me in immediately as of my first impressions on the ground floor and prepares me for a complete immersion into the full abundance of other-worldly beauty on the basement level.

Italian designer Enzo Mari’s scenography combines understated, minimalist simplicity (untreated wood, uncomplicated structures, spacious presentation) with the refined sophistication that high art presented in such a foundation deserves. It respectfully emphasizes the aesthetic and artistic nature of the objects displayed thanks to devices such as individual glass casing and dramatic lighting. It also provides a certain narrative backdrop that encourages the layman to feel closer to a totally foreign belief-system.
A small selection of elongated, wooden sculptures are displayed in the first part of the exhibition. Presented in a circular layout in front of vertical panels suggesting huts with a particular focus on a sculpture placed in the center, the visitor is included in this “village”. On the other side of the ground floor, boxy wooden seats encourage the onlooker to sit down and watch extracts of interviews with Jacqes Kerchache and documentary snippets of Vaudun rituals. The low-key seating arrangement and its voluntarily makeshift appearance contribute to an impression of immediacy and intimacy. Wooden displays along the edges show black and white photographic material from the 1960s, catalogues, type-written letters and newspaper articles providing archival evidence of Kerchache’s progress from adventurous youth to political advisor, from the original black and white budget catalogues to luxurious coffee table publications. We can thus begin to imagine a man’s impassioned pursuit of beauty in places where few others were sensitive enough to recognize it and begin to feel part of a journey that no one today will be able to make again.

In the basement section, 48 dramatically lit Vaudun statuettes presented on individual plinths offer a dazzling contrast to the first section’s light and airy simplicity. Here the visitor walks as through a forest, free to stop and admire each individual bocio or figuring. Contained within square, glass cases and placed at eye level the visitor can easily study the details of their assembled fabrication (metal, wood, textile and leather straps, padlocks, seashells, beads …) and intimately engage with their foreign force and beauty.

Jacques Kerchache had said, “Artists have always had a privileged relationship with works of art based on their experience of the sensual. I have endeavored to make that unique way of seeing mine, a way of seeing that creates strangely familiar bondes between humans and works of art. It has accompanied me throughout my career.” The current exhibition at Fondation Cartier does his ambition justice.

“Vodun: African Voodoo” is showing at Fondation Cartier pour l’art contemporain from April 5th to September 25th, 2011.

It’s difficult for people outside of France to grasp the full extent of the annual August shutdown. But business, social life and art really do go into Beach Orbit for a full four weeks of the year.

September is the month of re-entry, it’s la rentrée. Kids go back to school. Corporate types swap their Villebrequin shorts for ties. Deal makers dial C for Cash from city pads not yachts. Journalists type away from within their humble abodes, flip-flops and espadrilles flung into a corner after poolside sojourns at auntie Gwendoline’s (“Thank God for family after all!”) …
And the art flock – the monied, the passionate, the busy bees, the clueless and the sharks – all reassemble for a renewed round of friendly back-stabbing artworld banter. Galleries re-open their doors. Institutions work up to their blockbuster exhibition openings. Art fairs rev their ever-more finely tuned engines. Curators sharpen minds and pencils eager to demonstrate their yet-to-be-revealed genius in The Next Brilliant Exhibition. (“I will find a sponsor this time!”) Finally, the re-energized art critic can’t wait to dish out sweets or spanks depending ; the mere thought sends anticipatory frissons down his reptilian spine.

Whether mind and body of the art flâneur can take the full shock of renewed activity really entirely depends on the quantity and quality of sun, rosé, lengthy snoozes, extended meals and other summer delights absorbed.

Yes, it is indeed re-entry time in Paris.
Bonne rentrée!and buckle up because they’ve announced quite a ride!

Just in case you’re feeling frustrated ’cause the galleries have closed shop for the summer, you can see some contemporary creations at La Maison Rouge (Fondation Antoine de Galbert) near Bastille in Paris.

Who said contemporary art is hard work? French artist Claude Levêque invites visitors to lie down in his new piece commissioned by Galeries Lafayette and on view in the 1st floor exhibition space of the Parisian department store (Paris, 9th).

American artist Cy Twombly dies in Rome, aged 83 … It’s a good time to go gaze into the blue of his monumental ceiling work commissioned by the Louvre and inaugurated in 2010 …

And the Pompidou has one of his paintings hanging right at the beginning of their new presentation of the permanent collection on the 4th floor … Beautiful ….
The Pompidou is also displaying his model for a bronze monument that was to be placed at the center of the Place Furstenberg (Paris, 6th) designed in 2005.